CBS News this morning said that, when we go over the fiscal cliff, my federal income taxes will increase by about two-hundred bucks a month.

That’s a lot of money. For two-hundred bucks I could cover off the Sister Wife’s beer for at least two weeks, or take the Nordic Warrior Queen out for a nice night in Peoria.

I’m so tired of politics. Those yahoos in Washington couldn’t arrange a bake sale, yet they’re the ones in charge. It doesn’t make any sense. But since I voted for at least some of those yahoos, I decided it my civic duty to shake the tree a bit.

So I called the 61st Speaker of the United States House of Representatives, Mr. John Boehner.

It wasn’t easy. I had to go through fifteen people, two of whom were quite rude, and my story about being the caterer for Nancy Pelosi’s upcoming birthday extravaganza was wearing thin.

Just when I was about to give up, the phone was answered by an all too familiar voice of late. “Jack here.”

“Mr. Boehner?”

“Yes, this is Speaker Boehner. To whom am I speaking?”

“This is Kip. Kip Hanson, from Arizona. I want to talk about the fiscal cliff.”

“But…this isn’t Nancy’s caterer?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He sounded distraught. “My aide said there would be birthday cake, and one of those inflatable bounce houses, even though I’m working on legislation to ban them. Dangerous things, you know, a real public nuisance.”

“Sorry, sir. Can we talk about the fiscal cliff?”

“Oh boy,” said Boehner. “I’m so tired of that thing. All that talking with those difficult Democrats for weeks on end. They won’t give an inch.”

“Well, that is your job sir. What are you going to do about it?”

“I wanted to call it the fiscal crack in the sidewalk, but Mitch said no.”

“You mean Senator Mitch McConnell?”

“Yes, that bluegrass-loving bastard. He’s the one who got me in trouble with those tobacco lobbyists in ’95, damn him.”

“Sir, I don’t care. I want to know how you’re going to fix this. You only have a few days.”

“We’re optimistic.”

“What’s that mean?”

He cleared his throat. “It means, citizen, that we’re hopeful for a satisfactory resolution. That should be good enough for you.”

“You guys have been bickering all year. What makes you think you can pull this off by next week?”

“Well, we are very concerned about the average American and the impact this will have on them.”

I couldn’t believe this guy. “Dude, you’ve been a politician for over twenty-five years. You have a net worth of five-million dollars. What do you know about average Americans?”

“I hate to disagree, but my net worth is nowhere near that. It’s only four point three million.”

“Whatever.”

“I feel your pain, citizen.”

“Mr. Boehner. Have you ever heard the phrase a little rebellion now and then is a good thing?”

There was a long pause. “Can’t say that I have. Who came up with that silliness?”

“Thomas Jefferson.”

“Ah well, that explains it. He was a Jeffersonian. He sounded smug.

“Of course he’s a Jeffersonian, he was Thomas Jefferson!”

“Don’t get smart with me, citizen. I’m an elected official.”

I was getting nowhere. “What’s your point, Mr. Boehner?”

“Speaker Boehner, if you please?”

“Okay. Speaker Boehner. What do you mean,?”

“About what?”

“THOMAS JEFFERSON!”

“Oh. What I meant was that Jefferson wasn’t a true Republican.”

“So?”

“You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Can’t we talk about the fiscal cliff?”

“I’m sorry, citizen. I feel your pain, but I really must go. There’s a very important meeting with the banking lobbyists. I mustn’t be late.”

“But…”

“Tomorrow will be a better day, citizen. Good day.”

I hung up the phone, defeated. At least now I understand why nothing ever gets accomplished in Washington.